


Sweater Weather

by sailorchiron



Series: Fairytales [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Smut, True Love, the tiniest little bit of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorchiron/pseuds/sailorchiron
Summary: Side story for "The Misleading Nature of Unicorns" where we get to see how Chris and Tristan met.  Warning for ooey-gooey sweetness that's almost sickening.





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not reading The Misleading Nature of Unicorns, this won't make a lot of sense. Masumi is Chris's boyfriend in the show, but Kubo-sensei said that's not his actual name, so I renamed him. More about their relationship is in the other fic.

It was raining, not unusual for the end of September; chilly and damp and perfect for staying indoors. Even though it was only early evening, and there were plenty of things to do all over the palace, Chris was sitting on the sofa, staring at the fire with a glass of wine, listening to the rain hit the windows.

He’d put off his usual cheerful and flirtatious demeanor, complaining of a headache, and retreated to his rooms after dinner. The truth was, he was lonely. Not because he didn’t have anyone in his life to love – but because he _did._ And apparently, he was uninterested. Or maybe he was, he couldn’t tell. It was so frustrating. And depressing. But he didn’t want to risk one of the closest friendships he’d ever had with trying to seduce the man he so desperately wanted.

It had been noticed that Chris hadn’t taken any lovers since early summer, even though he was just as much of a flirt, and still had his well-known sensual tone of voice and wandering hands. He knew there was speculation. He actually hadn’t slept with anyone since February.

When he’d met Tristan.

When Rupert had come to him and told him about a young man at court who’d encountered tragic circumstances through no fault of his own, and had asked Chris if he would hire him as an under-secretary, he’d done it immediately. In all the years Rupert had been overseeing his business matters and social calendar, he’d never asked for a single favor. To his delight, Tristan had been charming and gorgeous, and had fallen in love with Cheri immediately. The aloof white cat that had Chris wrapped around her little paw had loved him just as much. And Chris had been so captivated by those emerald eyes, and hair that looked so soft, and that kind smile, he’d frankly stared. His heart had bid him adieux, and taken up residence with the beautiful, funny, and sweet-as-sugar young man who was technically Rupert’s assistant. And Chris’s ability to seduce any man out of his pants had cheerfully flown out the window.

The instant affection he’d felt for the man had made him reluctant to turn on his signature charm – he wanted Tristan to like the _real_ Chris. The man who made people feel special because they _were_ special to him; everyone in his household knew he was actually a person who loved to be kind and generous, who loved to read torrid works of romance and adventure, and who would rescue any bedraggled kitten or puppy he found. Not that he didn’t love sex – he did. But he treated his friends on staff like the amazing people they were, and kept his dalliances to courtiers. And Victor, of course. He often felt a wistful sadness that they’d never fallen in love. He cared deeply for the silver-haired prince (and he was amazing in bed). 

His reticence with Tristan had less to do with respect (though he absolutely respected him) and more to do with having no idea how to go about charming someone he loved, hoping that their relationship could be so much more than friends and lovers.

So he’d flirted very delicately by being so unfailingly nice to Tristan that he could see how much he cared about him, and that he wanted him for himself, not just for sex. Less than a month after they’d met, Chris was asking Tristan to join him for tea, and to spend evenings with him, just reading together or talking, or playing chess (even though Chris was terrible at chess). Luckily, Schweiz wasn’t as insane as Rus, and they only had music, dancing, or other entertainments a few nights a week, and at other times friends gathered in cozy spaces throughout the palace that were just for conversation and laughter. More and more often, Chris was spending evenings in his suite, laughing with Tristan, sharing a bottle of wine, and talking late into the night. He treasured those precious hours.

The problem was, he couldn’t tell if Tristan was interested but waiting for him to make the first move, or just very caring and attentive. He clearly liked spending time with Chris, he was always excited to share an evening with him, but he couldn’t tell if his sweetness was very subtle flirtation and interest or not. Some nights, after a few glasses of wine, their eyes met, and Chris was sure Tristan’s soft smile echoed the love in his own heart. Others, he seemed content just to tease the prince about any number of things, laughing like he would have with Victor over drinks and cards when he visited. He’d _never_ been so unsure of what to do.

And Victor was really no help. He’d sent him message after message, and the responses were pretty much all the same: _tell him._ But what if he was completely wrong? What if Tristan wasn’t even interested in _men,_ and things were horrifically awkward after that? And gods above, his heart would _shatter._ He was so stupidly in love with Tristan that having him close, even if they weren’t lovers, was as deep a need as breathing. He couldn’t face the fear that he’d lose him entirely, and was miserable.

As if the thought had summoned him, Tristan looked into the sitting room, and saw Chris. He knew what he looked like, he was in an old sweater that was really more than a few years past its prime, loose trousers, and wool socks, his feet up on the ottoman, and a mostly-empty bottle of wine on the table in front of the sofa. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it, and he’d been crying earlier, and was sure his face was still blotchy. 

Tristan crossed to stand in front of the sofa before sitting down on the ottoman facing Chris, concern marring his handsome features. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

Chris couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “I’m just thinking.”

“You’ve been crying, what’s wrong? You can tell me, you know you can.”

“I know I can. I’m just thinking about how lonely I am.”

“Lonely?”

“I set myself up for it. I’ve crafted this image that I’m only interested in sex, and now I wonder how I’m going to ever find anyone who could _love_ me. How far away will I have to go? How far is far enough that I can be myself with people? I’ll never _not_ be sensual and flirtatious, but no one here knows there’s more to me than that.” That was as close as he could come to screaming ‘I love you and can’t have you and want to die.’ Tears started to slide down his cheeks again.

“If you’re looking for someone who knows, you can look a lot closer to home than you think.” 

Chris turned to look at him, opening his mouth to ask him what he meant, when Tristan moved to sit sideways across his lap, cradled his head in his hands, and kissed him.

It was the best kiss he’d ever had. 

He felt like he’d been struck by lightning, nothing could ever have prepared him for the shock of just _how much more_ he could love Tristan once their affection was acknowledged with that simple press of their lips. And he was a _fantastic_ kisser. Chris wrapped his arms around the man he loved, whom he was finally kissing, and thought it might not be possible to be any happier than he was at this moment.

When Tristan pulled back to breathe, it was with obvious reluctance. “How could you think you’d have to leave to find someone who loves you?” he whispered. 

“I didn’t know – I couldn’t tell – what if I’d been wrong? I couldn’t lose you.”

“I was waiting for you to make the first move. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tristan kissed him again. “The last thing I ever wanted was to see you cry.” He brushed the tears from Chris’s cheeks with gentle fingers.

“I didn’t want to seduce you like I do other men, I wanted you for _you,_ I wanted you in my arms the moment we met. I wanted you in my _life_ the moment we met.”

Tristan chuckled. “I would have been happy to be seduced.”

Chris gave him a watery smile. “There’s still time.”

“I would have fallen for you no matter what.” He kissed him again, first on the forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. “Did you know you look unbelievably adorable when you smile like that?”

“I think I’ve only smiled like this for you.”

“Making you happy is all I want in the world, Christophe Giacometti.” 

Chris was _incandescently_ happy. “Hmm, you can start by kissing me again.”

And he did. It was slow and deep, a kiss of seduction. At some point, Tristan repositioned himself astride Chris’s thighs, and he groaned at the contact. He was rocking himself down on Chris, and he could feel that Tristan was just as aroused as he was. The new position allowed him to grip Tristan’s ass, and pull him harder against his erection. Chris bit at his lips, chasing them every time he pulled back to breathe, wanting more contact, wanting to be closer. He pulled Tristan’s sweater up and spread his hands over his warm back, happy to have skin contact, but wanting more. He broke the kiss, but was lost when Tristan started kissing his neck. He couldn’t think once someone was kissing his neck.

“Let me take you to bed,” Tristan murmured. 

Chris dropped his head back against the sofa. “Gods, yes, please.”

Tristan climbed off of his lap and held out his hand to pull Chris to his feet. He was wearing that smile that came out after a little too much wine, and Chris ached with how much he loved him. He used their joined hands to pull Tristan into a hug. Their height difference was perfect, Tristan was about three inches taller, and he felt absolutely treasured when they kissed just a moment later.

Chris’s room wasn’t far, and Tristan led him by their tangled fingers, looking back with loving eyes. As soon as the door closed, they were kissing again, and this time it wasn’t slow and seductive, it was rough and hot and a promise of unforgettable pleasure. They worked to strip each other; Chris had imagined this hundreds of times, but the reality of feeling bare skin against bare skin was so much better than his mind could have ever believed. Tristan pulled the covers back on the bed and pushed Chris onto the soft mattress, crawling over him and resuming their interrupted kiss.

For a time, all they did was kiss and move against each other, learning each other’s bodies, each finding what the other liked. Tristan loved the feeling of Chris’s nails on his back, and his hands in his hair; Chris’s entire neck was an erogenous zone, and his ears were so sensitive that the delicate touch of Tristan’s tongue on the fragile shell nearly ended things early. 

“What do you want?” Chris asked breathlessly.

Tristan looked down at him, eyes dark. “I want to fuck you.”

 _“Yes,”_ Chris groaned out. “Gods, please, _please_ fuck me.”

“What do you like?” Tristan was kissing down his chest, tongue and teeth teasing his nipples. “How long has it been?”

“Mmm, I like what you’re doing right now, almost too much. It’s been a long time. I haven’t been with anyone since we met.” 

“Oil?”

Chris vaguely waved at his bedside table. “In the drawer.” He ran his nails down his lover’s back. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

“I have some idea. Feeling you hard and wet against me is making it clear.” He opened the small bottle. “Do you want me to go down on you while I finger you?”

“Gods, normally I’d say yes, but I won’t last. I want to come with you inside me.”

“Next time.” He lay beside Chris, and touched his thighs. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, you have the most beautiful body.”

“I want you to touch me everywhere,” Chris breathed, spreading his legs. “I’ve been dreaming of this.”

With soft fingers running up the insides of Chris’s thighs, Tristan asked, “Have you touched yourself thinking about me, Chris?”

“So many times.” He gasped when he felt the first tender touch to his entrance. “Wanting you inside me.”

“So have I,” Tristan whispered, then kissed him lightly, almost a teasing touch to his lips. “I want you inside me, too.” He kissed him more firmly. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, dearest, I don’t want to hurt you.”

 _Dearest._ “I will, but it won’t be, I love being fingered.” _Gods_ he loved it. 

His eyes rolled up in his head with the first gentle press inside. “Like that, slow,” he breathed out. Tristan kissed him, licking into his mouth. It was so unbearably intimate, this slow unraveling, and he felt worshipped. When Tristan pushed in two fingers, Chris moaned and arched. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’re still so tight,” Tristan whispered after a few moments, pulling his fingers out and adding more oil. “Relax.”

“Easier said than done,” Chris laughed. “It feels so good.” 

“Should I kiss your neck?” 

“Yes, yes, you definitely should.” He stretched his head to the side to give him better access. Tristan’s lips and tongue and teeth were sublime, and the fingers moving steadily deeper, and stretching him with that delicious burn, he wasn’t sure if it was agony or ecstasy. “Three, please Tristan, I want more, I need you to fuck me.”

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He kissed Chris deeply as he pushed three fingers into his body. “You’re so beautiful, Chris, seeing you like this is like a gift.”

“I can’t wait anymore, I’m going to come, fuck me, _please.”_

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he begged. “Please, Tristan, _please--”_

“Shh,” he soothed, ghosting his warm lip’s over Chris’s temple. “I’ve got you. Does this position work for you?”

Chris nodded. “I want to kiss you.” He watched as Tristan smoothed oil over his cock. “That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Seeing you on your back with your legs spread is pretty fucking hot,” he replied, moving and leaning over Chris. “Tell me if this hurts, I’ll stop.”

“I will,” he breathed. “I promise.” He ran his hands up Tristan’s back as he positioned himself, and lost what was left of his mind as he entered his body. “Oh, oh _Tristan,_ oh _yes--”_

It was a long, slow slide, and Tristan stopped, panting, when he was fully seated. “Gods, Chris, you feel incredible. Tell me when I can move.”

“Move. Move now.” 

Tristan started rocking, then slowly, gently thrusting. “I’m not going to last, you’re so tight.”

“Me either. Harder, _please,_ harder. You feel so fucking good--”

Apparently, Tristan took harder seriously, and it was _amazing._ Chris raked his fingernails down his back, calling out random nonsense comprised mostly of ‘yes’ and ‘more.’ Tristan would have Chris’s marks on his back in the morning.

And then he changed the angle of his thrusts and Chris saw stars. “Oh--”

“Touch yourself, I want to watch you come while I’m fucking you.”

Just hearing those words out of Tristan’s mouth was almost enough. “I’m going to come,” he moaned, stroking himself quickly. “Oh, _Tristan,_ oh--” And that was it.

He vaguely felt Tristan finish while he was still riding the high of his orgasm, and heard him shout his name. He couldn’t remember ever coming this hard, and it was ages before he was aware of the world again. Tristan was sprawled across him, panting, and he wrapped his arms around him. “Tristan,” he breathed, and stroked his fingers through his hair. “ _Liebchen,_ you are _amazing.”_

Tristan laughed a little breathlessly, then propped himself up on his elbows to kiss him over and over again. “So are you.” He carefully pulled out and fell over onto his back. 

Chris pried his eyes open to look across the pillows at Tristan, and saw that he was smiling. He turned on his side facing him, and brushed back the soft hair falling across his lover’s forehead. “I love you.”

Tristan’s entire face lit with joy. He turned on his side, and leaned in for a kiss. “I love you so much.”

Chris moved just enough to cuddle into Tristan’s chest. “Please, never leave me.” _I can’t live without you._

“Chris,” he whispered. “I don’t think I could ever bear to leave you. Not even for a day.” 

They laid together, warm and secure in their mutual affection, for long minutes before Chris asked, “Share a bath with me? It’s still early, we could cuddle by the fire with a glass of wine.”

Tristan kissed his forehead. “Yes to both.”

They were quiet in the bubbles, content to simply exist with each other. They washed each other’s hair and bodies (Tristan hissed a little when soap met the impressive scratches Chris had left on his back), and only, reluctantly, got out of the bath when the water grew cold.

They both bundled up in Chris’s pajamas and robes, then snuggled together on the sofa, and Chris was so blissfully happy that he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop smiling. “Is it ridiculous that I like seeing you in my pajamas?”

“Yes, but it’s adorable.” Tristan kissed Chris’s hair. “I like wearing them. Even if the pants are just a little short.”

Chris chuckled. “I like that you’re taller than me.” He was completely ignoring the wine on the table to keep his arms around Tristan. 

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. It makes me feel more special, I guess. I like feeling protected. I always gravitate toward taller men.” He felt Tristan’s arms tighten around him.

“I want to protect you, you’re so special to me. I love you so much, Chris.”

“You’re everything to me,” Chris whispered. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.”

“Me, either. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.” 

Chris felt an irrational stab of jealousy. “Have you had many relationships?” He felt Tristan shrug.

“A few. Plenty of lovers, but only three I’d consider relationships.”

“Oh.” 

“Dearest, look at me.” When Chris didn’t look up, Tristan lifted his chin gently. “I love you. Having loved others before doesn’t mean I love you any less, and I don’t have any lingering desire to go back to them. As soon as you smiled at me, Chris, I knew I was going to love you for the rest of my life.”

“So did I,” he whispered. “I’ve never loved anyone before. I didn’t realize that was weird until you just reminded me that most people have had relationships at my age.”

“I’m five years older than you are, so I’ve had a little more time. And relationships are complicated when you’re _not_ in line for a throne, forget when you actually _are._ There’s nothing wrong with you.” Tristan kissed him. “Didn’t you say you were close to Prince Victor? Friendships are more important than romance, when it comes down to it. That’s what you hope for in a long relationship, that even when the love wanes, the friendship carries it through.”

“I don’t know if ‘close’ covers it, but yes.” Relieved, he rested his head back against Tristan’s shoulder, humming when he ran gentle fingers through his curls.

“How close is close?” He could hear the teasing in Tristan’s voice.

“Now who’s jealous?” he teased back. He felt a soft chuckle. “Close as in, Victor was the first and last person I slept with before we met. But we’ve never had a romantic relationship. We never fell in love. Maybe because I’ve known him since I was 8.”

“Exclusive?”

“When we were together, yes. We’re both too clingy to try to juggle multiple lovers.”

“Pity, I thought maybe we could have a threesome.”

Chris sat straight up. “What?”

“I’m kidding.”

“You’re…not the first person to suggest that.”

Tristan’s eyebrows drew together in alarm. “I’m actually kidding, though. The thought of watching you with another man, gods, I can’t tell you how much that upsets me.” He pulled Chris tight to him. “I never want that. Ever.”

Chris relaxed again, and pressed a kiss to his beloved’s lips. “I’m fairly, okay, _really,_ adventurous in bed, but I’ve never felt comfortable with sharing a threesome with Victor. We’re too close. And you…I couldn’t see you with someone else, it would kill me.”

They were quiet for a long time before Tristan asked, “So are you saying you had threesomes _without_ Victor?” There was that teasing tone again.

“Maybe.”

“You naughty boy.”

“Mhm.” Feeling silly, he squeezed Tristan’s side and got a bubble of laughter out of the other man. “Oh, you’re ticklish?”

“I’m so ticklish it’s not even fair.” He squirmed away when Chris tickled him again. “No, stop!” He shrieked when Chris brought his other hand into play. “Chris, no--” Then he couldn’t talk because he was laughing too hard.

Chris was _delighted._ “Oh, you poor dear,” he cooed as Tristan tried in vain to push him away, weak with laughter. After a few moments he relented, he was a benevolent tyrant, after all.

“Truce?”

“How is it even a truce, I didn’t use anything against you!” Tristan was still laughing. “You’re just retreating so you can attack when I least expect it!”

“Damn, you’ve found me out.” They’d fallen over sideways, Chris on top, and he kissed Tristan before lying on top of him. “I’ll be waiting for you to let your guard down.”

Tristan was still laughing a little, but wrapped his arms around Chris. “You suck.”

“Mhm, and I’m really good at it.” He hummed with pleasure when Tristan gently ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll look forward to that.” He was quiet for a while. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m never going to let you go.”

Chris hadn’t thought he could be any happier, but he was wrong. “You’ll never have to.”

**Author's Note:**

> More Chris and Tristan? Yes? No?


End file.
